


Intoxicated

by SourwolfZiam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bravery fueled by alcohol, Derek is a saint, Drunken Flirting, Emotionally constipated boys in love, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Pack feelings, Recreational Drinking, Stiles being a drunk mess, but a cute mess, shifting pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourwolfZiam/pseuds/SourwolfZiam
Summary: Stiles just had to have the biggest gay crush on the grumpiest, hottest Alpha in the world. Life is so not fair.





	Intoxicated

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, omg this took so fucking love for me to complete, wtf.
> 
>  
> 
> I have had this stored away as a draft for months!! But it is complete, and I love it :)
> 
> PS: There is a teeny tiny mention of Stiles wanting to throw up, but it's super quick. This is just a warning for those who hate that kinda stuff.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this fic.

Stiles and Lydia arrive at Billy’s Bar & Grill at 6:13pm, only minutes after Scott, Malia and Danny. Every two weeks on Fridays are reserved for drinks at Billy’s, unless someone is ill, one of their asshole bosses make them work overtime, or there’s a Monster of the Week they have to save the town from.

“Hello, beautiful people. And Scott” Stiles says, sitting down in the booth next to Scott, who only rolls his eyes at his best friend. Lydia gives them all a small smile in greeting, and presses a quick kiss against Danny’s cheek when he pours her a large glass of wine.

“Hey, y’all” Mary, a waitress at Billy’s, says as she stops in front of their table, her order pad and pen ready, “Are y’all having the usual or do you want a rundown of the chef’s specials?”

“The usual, Mary” Malia answers with a smile, “And another round, please”

Mary nods, and with a quick “I’ll be back with your drinks” she leaves them.

Stiles grabs a beer from the table in front of him, twisting off the cap, and tips his head back, taking a long, deep drink from the bottle. He sighs, feeling himself finally settle into the weekend. Stiles has been working on the same virus code for the last few days, and he’s as close to breaking it as he was when he received it.

Stiles and Lydia started working at Gill & Hughes’ IT firm at the same time three years ago after they both graduated from Berkeley. Lydia’s already been offered the position of vice-president, while Stiles remains happy in his position as a coder. They work well together, and their friendship has only strengthened over the years.

A week like this, where nothing seems to be going right at work, isn’t rare, but it’s been a while since Stiles has had such an issue completing a contract. Lydia gave him one look when she came to his cubicle during lunch today, gently squeezed his shoulder, and offered to buy him frozen yogurt.

Stiles is grateful every day to have her in his life.

Danny works at a law firm with Jackson, who’s been out of town for the past few weeks. Scott is a vet, Malia is currently (happily) unemployed and living with Peter, and Kira is a preschool teacher.

That’s it. That is all the friends Stiles still has.

Those who are alive.

Well, there is also Derek, of course. Not that Stiles forgot about him; it’s just that the Alpha barely has time to hang out with them, unless it’s for pack business or their monthly bonding sessions. Ever since Derek decided last year to go back to UCLA and complete his degree in History, he’s been very busy. Stiles smiles to himself as he remembers how Derek acted through the announcement, glaring at all of them as if daring the pack to laugh at his decision. Everyone congratulated him, and Derek’s blush was a treat for Stiles.

Stiles is pretty sure Derek is busy with an important assignment at the moment. He’s probably not even had a proper meal or night’s sleep in a week.

Ugh, Stiles remembers how stressful and draining studying was.

 _I should probably get him a takeaway,_ Stiles thinks, _maybe I’ll even get a smile of gratitude._

Stiles silently snorts to himself. Like _that_ would ever happen. Derek would probably sniff the food in suspicion before slamming the door in Stiles’ face.

Stiles just had to have the biggest gay crush on the grumpiest, hottest Alpha in the world. Life is so not fair.

He sighs audibly, but luckily none of his friends hear him, too focused on Mary returning with their second round of drinks. Stiles takes a long drink from his beer again, before grabbing one of the complementary shots Billy’s always gives on a Friday.

“To the weekend” Lydia says, and everyone cheers, clinking their shot glasses each other’s. Stiles gulps down the tequila, scrunching his face up at the sharp, oily taste, but relishing in the heat spreading through his body. He takes off his jacket, and loosens his tie.

God, he hates wearing a suit every day. _Why_ the coding department has to wear them as well, is beyond Stiles. He’s sure Mr. Gill just likes to make them suffer.

Stiles slowly finishes the rest of his first beer, his body slowly relaxing. He didn’t participate in any of the conversation going on around him, as he reaches for a handful of salty pretzels in the center of the table. He smiles when Scott starts excitedly talking about finding the right shade of green for the nursery he and Kira are busy decorating, in preparation of the pack’s first pup. Stiles and Lydia have been named the godparents, which Stiles is very excited about.

The food eventually arrives, and Stiles nearly moans in anticipation when looking at the fried and barbecued goodness he was about to eat. His eyes follow Mary hands as she puts down the baskets of curly fries, barbequed ribs, fried jalapeno poppers, sticky wings, a bowl of green salad and a dozen freshly baked rolls.

“Thanks, Mary” they all seem to say in unison, hands already reaching out to fill plates.

“My pleasure, darlings. Give me a shout if y’all want another top-up” Mary says, before leaving them alone.

 

They all eat and drink, laughing and lightening up as more rounds are ordered. Even Lydia laughs at Stiles’ impersonation of their boss, hiccupping into her glass of Merlot.

Since the werewolves can’t get drunk, Scott and Malia are usually the ones to drive the humans home, which is why Lydia, Danny and Stiles leaves their vehicles at home on Fridays.

At around 8pm, Stiles is pleasantly lightheaded. He isn’t one to get drunk, but after such a shitty week, he thinks he deserves to loosen up a little. The four of them finally convinced Danny to go ask out the hot new bartender, Marcus, who’s been shamelessly flirting with him for weeks. While Danny is at the bar, Stiles shows Scott new dog vines that he found, the two of them giggling like schoolboys. Stiles is sure Lydia and Malia are judging them right now.

“You’re doing that thing again” Lydia suddenly says, her tone bored yet speculative at the same time. Stiles is certain only she can pull that off.

“What thing?” Stiles asks distractedly, barely looking up from his phone.

“That thing where you make everything about Derek” Stiles splutters at that, his head snapping up to gape at Lydia, who is busy smirking at him, “Don’t even try to deny it. I have Malia here as a witness”.

“It’s true, Stiles” Malia says, grinning sharply as she bites into a chicken wing, her lips glistening with sauce. Stiles doesn’t miss the way Lydia grimaces at how Malia talks with her mouth full, “You’ve compared the last four videos you two have watched, to something related to my cousin”.

“Pfft, that’s ridiculous” Stiles says, trying to sound vehement, even as he feels his cheeks flush. He knows he occasionally slips up and _happens_ to mention how fluffy Derek’s hair looks, or how pretty his unusually colored eyes are, or how he should wear tank tops more, or how _fucking fantastic_ his ass looks in his blue jeans-

Anyway.

Stiles does this once every blue moon, and NEVER in front of Derek.

He doesn’t have a death wish, after all.

Besides, he didn’t think anyone was listening to his mutterings, since he was usually just talking to himself.

But now he’s b-u-s-t-e-d.

“It’s vines about puppies, of course I’ll somehow mention Derek. I saw the opportunity to make a dog joke, and I took it” Stiles scoffs, and then hides his face in a basket of fries, hoping his stuffed cheeks will distract everyone from his burning ears.

Lydia doesn’t look likes she believes him for a second, while Malia has simply gotten bored of the conversation and started playing a game on her phone. Scott easily wipes some sauce of the side of Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles pats him on the head in thanks, earning a wide grin from his best friend. He’s definitely sure Lydia is rolling her eyes at him, which Stiles will ignore, because Lydia doesn’t understand the awesomeness of Stiles and Scott’s bro-lationship.

Lydia’s phone rings just as Stiles finally swallows his fries, and by the small smile on her face, it must be Jackson.

Ugh.

“Excuse me” she says, before sliding out of the booth, walking over to the outside smoking area, where she answers the phone. Stiles turns back to his food, eating a rib, before taking a swig of beer.

The rest of the night is uneventful, as Danny gets Marcus’ number, coming back to the booth with a smug expression, and a tray of free shots, resulting in Stiles getting peer-pressured into downing one. Malia leaves around 10pm, after getting a text from her booty call to come over (she shows them the message, which simply says **i hve a new dildo n dat lube u like, com over** ).

By the time it’s 12am, and the bar is an hour away from closing, Stiles is smashed. He doesn’t even remember getting this drunk; one minute he was sipping on a beer, and the next he was giggling unstoppably at the way Scott was reciting sonnets about Kira’s smile and dark eyes. Lydia was completely ignoring them, as she lets Danny braid her hair.

Derek suddenly comes to Stiles’ mind again when he happens to catch a tall, well-built guy wearing a leather jacket exiting the bar.

 _Derek looks way better in his jacket,_ Stiles thinks with a hiccup, and nearly groans at himself.

God, he’s so pathetic! Since 17, he’s been lusting after the same guy. Despite the relationships and brief hookups Stiles has had over the years, no one has ever come close to stealing his heart like Derek.

It hasn’t just been the fear of rejection that’s made Stiles keep his mouth shut about how he feels. It’s also the fact that, if they did become a couple, and later broke up, it would make things so fucking awkward for the pack, which no one deserves.

Despite how moody and stilted he is 95% of the time, Derek really is a valuable part of Stiles’ life, and he doesn’t wish to lose the comradery that years of being in each other’s spaces, while protecting Beacon Hills, has created between them.

So Stiles keeps his feelings to himself, masking his emotions behind sarcasm and humour, savouring the moments when Derek unexpectantly cracks a joke, or laughs at something Stiles said, and when he’s being an Alpha during training, or strategizing on how to get rid of the latest Supernatural Baddie, looking serious.

All the times when Derek shares an inside joke that’s just between the two of them, or when his gaze always seems to linger a little too long over Stiles, or when he’s all encouraging towards Stiles during said strategy meetings, floods back to Stiles. But he also remembers how the brief feelings of hope flaring in Stiles whenever that Derek was around, always dims when Derek still orders him around like he’s a wolf rather than a human, or when he would still be unable to occasionally express his emotions in a healthy way.

 _Damn Derek and his dumb face. Who even_ looks _like that. I don’t deserve to suffer like this,_ Stiles shakes his head, scoffing to himself, _I should totally go over to his place and give him a piece of my mind._

And with a lot of beer and tequila fueling his confidence, Stiles suddenly gets up, blindly grabbing his phone and wallet lying next to the empty baskets.

“I gotta go to Derek’s place” Stiles says, his words slightly slurred.

“Uhm, why?” Scott asks, surprise over his face, while Lydia has a scary smile on her face, like she knows exactly what’s going on in his head.

He wonders if banshees can read thoughts. Stiles shudders at the idea.

“I… left my coat there the other night, and I need it” Stiles says lamely. He cant very well tell them that he wants to go and yell at his hot Alpha crush, and then hopefully bang him.

Danny raises a super judgemental eyebrow at him, but says nothing, while Lydia snorts unattractively (Stiles didn’t think Lydia could do anything unattractively, so he’ll blame the wine).

“Okay? Do you want me to drive you over there?” Scott offers, and Stiles shakes his head, with causes the room to spin for a few seconds, hello. When he’s sure there’s only one Scott in front of him, Stiles makes sure to pat him on the shoulder.

“I’ll be fine, buddy. I’ll just call for a driver, so stay here and enjoy yourself” Stiles says, trying to sound as sober and responsible as possible. He thinks he succeeds on Scott, who nods slowly, looking less uncertain. Lydia simply rolls his eyes at him, and Danny has lost complete interest in the conversation.

Whatever, what do they know.

With a final wave at the group, Stiles slowly makes his way out of the bar, ensuring that he doesn’t stumble or bump into anyone or anything. Once he’s outside, still fueled on drunken, self-righteous indignity at Derek Hale, Stiles calls for a taxi.

He doesn’t wait long for one to arrive; Beacon Hills is small, so there’s only one taxi company.

“Hey, Sally” Stiles says, climbing into the back of the taxi, fumbling with the seatbelt.

“Hey, kid. Where’re we going so late?” Sally replies, a kind 40-something woman, who’s the owner of said taxi company. Sally has 3 other drivers, but she tends to also taxi people around, if the need comes.

“The apartment block on 5th and Silkenwood” Stiles says, and Sally nods, turning up the smooth jazz she was listening to before she starts driving. Stiles hums along to the music, remembering the days when his mom would teach him how to dance while 80’s jazz was playing throughout the kitchen.

He smiles at the memory. The days where thinking of his mom only caused him pain are long gone, and Stiles is always thankful for the mostly clear memories he still has of his mother, before she got sick.

He blinks his eyes open when they stop driving. Once he’s paid Sally and wished her a goodnight, Stiles gets out of the taxi, and walks up to the front of Derek’s apartment block. Derek is on the 6th floor, living in one of the apartments that takes up half of the floor; Stiles ensured that this one has decent furniture, a big TV set, and proper kitchen appliances, because if the pack were going to be there all the time, they might as well be comfortable.

Stiles uses the key that Derek gave him that allows him inside, only struggling a little to open the complex’s entrance door.

Okay fine, Derek gave every pack member a key, and not Stiles alone.

But Stiles was the first one to get a key, so there’s that.

Stiles takes the elevator up to Derek’s apartment, blearily needing to wait for the numbers to stop dancing in front of him before he could press ‘6’.

With a soft _ding,_ the elevator doors open on Derek’s floor, and Stiles gets out, tripping over his own feet, barely catching himself from falling on his face.

With that in mind, Stiles marches over to Derek’s apartment, and pounds on the door.

Okay, so he doesn’t pound on the door. He just gives a firm knock- he doesn’t want the neighbours to call the cops because some loon is making noise outside their place.

He might be a _liiitle_ tipsy, but he’s not that far gone.

Plus, his dad showing up to arrest his own child for drunkenly disorder was not how he planned this night to go.

When Derek doesn’t open the door, Stiles knocks again, whispering “Derek, open up!” just loud enough for a werewolf to hear.

After another few seconds, Derek does indeed open up, looking soft and sleepy, and wearing nothing but a pair of long hanging grey sweatpants, his hair messy and free of product.

He looked like something out of Stiles’ wet dreams.

God fucking damnit.

“God fucking damnit” Stiles says aloud, and Derek blinks at him.

 

___

Derek blinks at Stiles.

He’s 12 pages into his 25-page assignment on the lead up to World War Two, and the role Third World countries played in it, and this was not what he was expecting.

Derek was just about to take a shower, in order to refresh himself, and maybe make himself a sandwich to eat, when there was a door knock. He already knew it was Stiles by listening to his heartbeat, so he finished taking off his shirt, before making his way to his front door. Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles knocked again.

The smell of fried food and alcohol was strong as soon as the Alpha opened the door, and Derek wrinkled his nose at Stiles.

Now he was blinking at the younger man, who seemed to be alternating between looking at his chest and at his face.

“Can I help you with anything?” Derek asks, instead of addressing Stiles’ words, and was almost amused at the look of drunken indignation on his face. He was already feeling the tension of his assignment and sitting in the same position for the last five hours lessen, as he took in Stiles. He’s always had the ability to get Derek out of his own head, and that’s always been something Derek lov- liked about Stiles.

Yeah, like.

Appreciate.

As a friend.

Of course.

“Can I help you with anything, he asks” Stiles says in a mocking voice, and effectively slips past Derek, who merely raises his eyebrow. Having been familiar with just how strange Stiles is, for the last 9 years, Derek didn’t bother trying to question what the hell is going on.

He simply closes the door, and turns just in time for Stiles to poke his left pectoral. Stiles then gets distracted prodding his pecs, and seems to be moving his hand down to his abs, before he catches himself and visibly shakes his head.

Derek raises his eyebrow higher when Stiles tears his eyes away from his chest, to look into Derek’s eyes.

“Can I help you with anything?” Derek repeats, and Stiles scoffs.

“You think this will help you, being all half-naked and ripped?” Stiles demands, and Derek is even more confused than before.

“Help me with what exactly?” Derek asks, and Stiles flails his arms up and down, as if Derek’s entire self is the answer.

“Your face is ridiculous” Stiles says abruptly, and Derek blinks again. Stiles seems to take Derek’s temporary silence as encouragement to continue, so he does, crossing his arms, probably trying to look intimidating.

He doesn’t.

“Your face is ridiculous” Stiles repeats, “Your stupid body is stupid, and so is your voice. You think because you’re a great Alpha, a wonderful friend, and know how to do a gazillion bench-presses that it’s fine for you to make me suffer like this for the last few years?”

“Suffer like… what?” Derek asks when he’s sure Stiles is finished talking, watching as he flops down on the couch, throwing his arm over his eyes. Derek is thoroughly confused now, and Stiles’ obviously drunken ramblings only increased that feeling.

“Like… like I have the slimmest chance with you, when I actually don’t” Stiles replies, voice muffled behind his arm, and Derek startles at that.

He knows he isn’t the most forthcoming person when it comes to his emotions, but Stiles should know…

But then again, this _is_ Stiles he’s talking about.

“You decide to come talk to me about this now, after you smell and look like you drank out an entire bar?” Derek asks, sitting on the coffee table in front of Stiles, who moves his arm from his eyes to glare at him.

“This wasn’t planned, Derek. Sometimes feelings just boil over, or whatever” Stiles says, and then sighs, “I should go. I’m embarrassing myself” he starts to get up, but seems to hit vertigo before falling on his side, landing face first on the couch, “Just leave me here to die” he says, not moving his body to sit up again.

Derek smiles to himself, before he helps/wrestles Stiles up into a more comfortable position. He leans forward, resting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. Despite the smell of beer and tequila on him, Derek could smell the underlying scent that is purely Stiles, his favourite scent in the world.

And despite his work suit’s rumpled state, even messier hair, and the glassy, slightly red-eyed state of his gaze on Derek, Stiles is still the most beautiful man Derek knows.

“I have so much I want to say to you. And we’ll definitely be having a word about how we need to learn how to communicate more openly, and when both of us are sober” Derek runs his fingers over Stiles’ cheek, smiling again as Stiles closes his eyes and leans into the touch. When he opens his eyes again, Derek continues, “But for now, all I want to say is that you are wrong. I do like you, okay?”

Stiles only stares at him in surprise, seemingly speechless for the first time in his life, which makes Derek unreasonably happy.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow morning, but for now you’re going to have a sandwich and some coffee, then I’m taking you home” Derek says, and then clears his throat when he realizes how that sounds.

Stiles smirks at him, before leering, “Finally, I’ve been waiting to hear that since junior year” and Derek rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore him.

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen”.

Derek makes Stiles a BLT sandwich, with extra bacon, and some strong coffee. He watches Stiles to ensure that he’s eating, and doesn’t accidently choke to death or drown in his cup of coffee.

Stiles seems a little soberer once he finishes eating.

“Okay, I think I need to go nap now” Stiles says, and yawns widely before resting his head on the island counter, his eyes drooping closed.

Never mind.

Derek gives another world-suffering sigh that only Stiles seems able to elicit out of him, before walking over to where he’s currently fast asleep, easily lifting him from the chair and carrying him over to the couch.

He’d leave him here to sleep, but Derek didn’t want to have to deal with any possible heartbreak if Stiles woke up at him place, and regretted what he told Derek.

So he goes to his bedroom upstairs, pulling on a Henley and leather jacket, and returns downstairs.

Derek drives Stiles home, and manages to get Stiles inside without getting caught by the Sheriff.

He takes off Stiles’ jacket, tie and shoes, and tucks him into bed.

Derek runs his fingers through Stiles hair, and places a soft kiss on his cheek, before he leaves.

 

\--

Stiles wakes up the following morning with a hangover from hell.

“Fuck” he groans, the pounding in his head and the taste of old tequila and greasy food a nasty aftertaste in his mouth. He stumbles out of bed, and makes it to the bathroom before heaving over the toilet bowl. Nothing but spit comes out, and after the wave of nausea dissipates slightly, Stiles takes a hot shower, brushing his teeth afterwards.

Once he feels marginally more human, Stiles dries himself off and gets dressed in a pair of loose, grey sweatpants and a thin white Iron-Man t-shirt.

He opens his bedroom windows, immediately feeling the cool, fresh outside air breaking through the smell of alcohol and sweat in his room.

Stiles crawls back into bed, picking up his dead phone sitting on the bedside table.

Fractures of last night are coming back to him, and Stiles wants to _die_ at the memory of how he behaved at Derek’s. He has no idea how he got home, but he presumes it was Derek who brought him home.

God, he must have been so annoyed at how Stiles interrupted him while he was working, yet he was nice enough to bring him home, instead of simply throwing him out.

But that isn’t how Derek is, and Stiles knows it.

Despite his grumpy exterior, he is a kind and generous man.

It’s one of the many reasons Stiles loves Derek.

He loves Derek.

Once Stiles has his phone in the charger, it immediately starts buzzing with notifications, startling him.

Wow, he’s popular today.

He sees that he has one missed call from his dad, and a message saying that he has to buy milk and bread. Stiles replies, saying that he’ll go grocery shopping later today, before checking his other messages.

 **Hey, hope u fine** (1:01am)

Stiles smiles at Scott’s message, feeling a surge of affection for his best friend, and responds with, **I’m fine, bud. Thx for checking in.**

Lydia sent him a rather lewd messages with only, **Enjoy,** an eggplant and tongue emojis (00:40am)

Stiles ignores her.

Then he sees that he has three messages from Derek, and he nearly chokes on air. He debates changing his name and skipping the country, but then when he realizes that his dad would simply find him and drag him back home, so he opens the chat with shaking hands.

 **I left some nausea and headache pills in your bedside drawer, take it after having breakfast** (05:17am)

 **We have to talk. Today** (06:48am)

 **Actually, let’s just have breakfast together. Let me know when you’re awake** (06:49am)

Stiles curses, dropping his head back on the pillow. He stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, before he types out his reply.

**Hey, I’m awake. How about Mel’s Diner?**

It only takes a minute for Derek to reply, and Stiles’ stomach jolts when his phone buzzes.

 **Okay, meet me there in 30 minutes** (09:45am)

“Still bossy as always” Stiles mutters to himself, and quickly glances at the window to check that Derek wasn’t there. Once he’s sure no one overheard him, Stiles responds with, **See you in 30,** before dropping his phone on the bed next to him.

 

 

Stiles arrives at Mel’s 27 minutes later, running his fingers nervously through his hair as he enters the diner. He smiles at Jake who’s manning the till, before looking around for Derek. When he finds Derek sitting at the back of the diner, eyes already on Stiles, he blows out a breath before walking towards him.

“Hey” Stiles says, sitting down across Derek. He picks up a sugar sachet, fiddling with it between his fingers, nerves probably pouring off him.

“Hi” Derek says, his eyes calm and steady on him, “How are you feeling?”.

“Fine.  I had a dry piece of toast so that I could take those pills” Stiles replies, giving a lopsided smile, “Thanks for leaving them, by the way”.

“No problem” and with that, Derek gives a smile.

It’s not a huge smile, but it is one that immediately makes Stiles feel much calmer and settled.

It’s a smile that tells him that everything is going to be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Never wait until you're drunk before you confess your love.
> 
>  
> 
> All kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on my social:
> 
> Twitter: Malikah_Meyer
> 
>  
> 
> xx Malikah


End file.
